


the road to hell is paved with good intentions

by heyrebelgrrrl



Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: Drabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-21
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2019-03-07 13:01:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13435251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heyrebelgrrrl/pseuds/heyrebelgrrrl
Summary: H.G. has just been sprung by MacPherson from the bronze sector. A conversation ensues.





	the road to hell is paved with good intentions

**Author's Note:**

> It's 2018 and I'm back in my Bering & Wells feels. This is just a little drabble as I dip my toe back into writing again. The character of Helena is arguably the most interesting in the entire series and I am so, so bummed that they didn't tap into the huge amount of potential she had as a standalone character and as a potential LI for Myka. This particular fic doesn't feature Myka, but I may have something in the works that I hope to post in the near future. As always, your comments are appreciated. Enjoy!

_“Welcome to the future… let’s change it, shall we?”_

Disoriented and alive for the first time in… well, how many years had it been?... those were the first words that graced her ears when she was conscious enough to actively listen.

The accent, it was familiar, but it wasn’t anyone she knew.

How long had she spent locked up in the bronze sector? What year was it? Why had she been de-bronzed? And who was it that she had to thank?

The roar of the wind through the open windows was the only thing that filled Helena’s ears for a long time while these thoughts ran through her mind as she oriented herself to this new world that was otherwise dark.

Dark. Right. She should probably remedy that.

She’d heard the woman’s warning but had no interest in heeding it. It had been far too long since she’d been kissed by the sun.

With her newfound freedom, Helena reached up to unfurl the wrap that had cloaked her ever since her departure from the warehouse. What met her was a brightness that caused long lashes to flutter wildly as it whizzed past her in the windows of an impressive vehicle. She would have to get her hands on one of these at a later date.

“W…who are you?” Helena inquired, her throat scratchy and raw from years of silence while eyes which had not seen the radiance of the sun nor the brilliance of nature in far too long focused upon the stranger who harnessed the means of their transportation. “And what year is it, exactly?”

“H.G. Wells,” the man chuckled, chancing a glance in the rearview mirror so their eyes might meet. “You don’t know me but I’ve learned a great deal about you, though I’m quite confident that all is to change, and soon. James MacPherson at your service—and the year is 2010. You’ve been in the bronzer for…”

“One hundred and ten years,” Helena breathed with wonderment, turning back towards the window as a world anew flew by.

You see, the thing they don’t tell you about bronzing is that you’re conscious—for all of it. Trapped in the confines of your mind for the rest of eternity. Such luck she’d been born with a great deal of imagination.

She’d known it’d been quite some time but oh, even in her wildest dreams she couldn’t have estimated this.

One hundred and ten years had passed. Over a century of inventions, of history, of literature, music, art… It was enough to make her head spin. She was filled with a sudden need to consume—one that she would find to be absolutely insatiable when greeted with the overwhelming degree of that which she’d missed.

“I hadn’t spent a fraction of your time in that bugger but I’ll tell you, it felt like a damned eternity.”

That—well, that was surprising, and her tone said as much.

“You were bronzed?”

“Oh yes,” MacPherson affirmed with another throaty chuckle, leaving Helena feeling uneasy.

Out of habit, she reached up to grasp her locket, only to find it missing. Right. Something else she should probably remedy.

That was enough of a reminder to get those gears turning again. She’d spent quite a bit of time locked away with nothing to do but think—think of the world and the opportunities she was missing out on, and those that would be presented to her once she was freed from her prison.

“But that’s a story for another time. You’ve quite a bit to catch up on, and a more pressing matter you need attend to.”

Helena’s brows furrowed. She knew nothing of this man who had pulled her from isolation, against warehouse orders if the cues she was reading were any indication, and for all she knew she could be in danger. Years of experience had taught her many things, one being: Trust no one.

“You see, I have found myself in a bit of a difficult situation and—lucky me, I know—you’re the only one who can help.”

Lost in her thoughts, the odd sensation of someone watching her pulled her from her daydreams to find MacPherson looking at her through the mirror once more.

“All I’m asking for is your attention. Should you decide to help me with my plan, what I can offer you is: your freedom.”

“Everything I own is in the Escher Vault, which I’m sure by now is—”

“Ah, ah, Ms. Wells. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, shall we? I’ve done my research. You’ve ensured that you’d be very well cared for upon your reemergence into the world. You also left behind a few, far more interesting things. Clues, if you will.” She could tell from the view she had of his eyes that he was smiling now. “You are quite brilliant. Though, I’m sure you’re well aware of that by now, aren’t you? But this is a new world, and you’ll need someone to help you navigate it, else you’ll wind up back in the bronze sector until the world’s in ruins. Now, I’d very much hate to see that happen, as I’m sure you would, too. So, why don’t we see if we could strike up a little deal, shall we?”

Over a hundred years had passed and still something remained constant: Man’s capability to always underestimate the wit of a woman.

Well, that would play to her advantage in the long run. It would be in her favour to discover just what it was that MacPherson had discovered during the course of his… “research.”

After a long moment of silence, H.G. inhaled through her mouth and settled back against the cushioned seat. “I’m listening.”

“Splendid,” MacPherson replied with great gusto, his hand patting the wheel that seemed to control his vehicle. “It all started when…”

And as MacPherson began recounting his tale of “brilliance” in how he’d unraveled her plan, or so he thought, and had so chosen to be her personal saviour, Helena began creating a mental checklist of all the things she’d need to move forward. When he was wrong, she didn’t correct him. Nor did she inform him that she was no damsel in distress, that she didn’t need saving. On the contrary, he’d played right into her hands. She could tell simply from the way he spoke to her that she was seen as nothing but a pawn to him. How foolish he’d feel when he’d find out, at long last, that it was the other way around.

After one hundred and ten long years…the game was afoot. And James MacPherson? He wasn’t just dealing with one of the world’s greatest minds. He’d just let loose his worst nightmare.


End file.
